It’s getting rather late as Jayce and I finally get back to the Bowl. We took a bit more time heading back into the city than we did leaving it, as both of us were tired and frankly it would be unnecessary to redo the mad dash to catch up with Thunderfist. So the sun is slowly crawling below the horizon as we return to the Bowl, casting the city in shadow.

  “I’ll give Jonathan the mission report,” Jayce says, “You can skip it; we don’t both need to be there.”

  I give him a raised eyebrow, “Are you…doing something nice?”

  “Not a chance, rookie,” Jayce shoots back snarkily, “I’m just afraid you’ll mess something up. Consider this a favor—one I’ll collect on later.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I reply, gesturing dismissively, “Good luck and all.”

  “Don’t need it,” Jayce says cockily, “Unlike last time, this mission was a success.”

  I wave him off, and the two of us part ways, him heading up to the executive offices while I cut through the lower levels back to my apartment. With a sigh of relief, I unlock my door, enter, and plop my but right down on my couch contentedly. Almost absentmindedly, I take my phone from where I’d left it during the mission and check my notifications. In an all too familiar feeling, I’m surprised by a series of recent—the newest one not ten minutes old—texts from Elias.

  “Hey, Charlie, your girlfriend is rampaging down by the docks. Are you gonna do anything about that?”

  “Charlie?”

  “She just stole a boat. Do you need some assistance?”

  I stare at the messages for half a beat before it clicks.

  “Fuck.”

  I leap up from my seat, frantically mashing out a text back to Elias asking for updates. Simultaneously, I’m already running out the door, making a beeline for the sea. Elias gives me the exact location the moment I make it out of the Bowl, and once I have it, I pick up speed, practically flying over the streets as I push myself to the limit running towards Rowan.

  All I can think is why she might be doing this. She hasn’t sent a message back to me in a while, perhaps she broke her phone and didn’t know how else to contact me? I guess I forgot to tell her where I’m staying; she may not have known any way of finding me. The other possibility, the one I can only hope isn’t real, is that she’s really in some kind of trouble, and that she stole a boat as some sort of last-ditch attempt to flee.

  Either way, I refuse to not be there in time to help.

  I’m blindingly fast as I tear up the pavement, hoping to not be too late. The worst case—for either scenario—would probably be another hero stepping in before I can. Heroes tend to accept nemesis priority, but not at the risk of allowing a villain to go loose for too long. If they didn’t think I was coming, or didn’t know, another hero might already have arrested her.

  Finally, I make it to the scene of the crime. A few police vehicles are parked nearby a local recreational establishment, with several motorboats docked just past it in the bay. A pair of officers are talking to an old man dressed like a surfer as another few are taking notes and pictures by an empty slot where another boat likely was.

  “Ah, finally,” one of the officers notices me approaching swiftly, “Hero…" he notices something, "Wait, are you okay?” He looks wide-eyed at my clothing.

  “It’s not mine,” I say ominously, hardly caring how I look despite not having had time to clean off Thunderfist’s blood, “What’s the current situation?”

  The officer gulps, “Ah…we, uh, we think the villain involved here is known as ‘Hot Pink,’ with an emphasis on fire-based-”

  “I know that,” I interrupt, “Where is she?”

  “I-” The officer starts to sweat, “I don’t know. The boat she took tops out at around seventy knots. She could be all the way to the cloudwall by now.”

  “The cloudwall?” I frown, “I guess I can look there first.” I stride up to the dock, briefly considering the open ocean before me.

  “Um…excuse me, but you aren’t expecting to take a boat too, are you? I’m afraid you aren’t allowed to-” The officer starts.

  “No need,” I reply, “I’m faster on my own anyways.”

  “Surely you aren’t going to swim-”

  “Obviously not,” I interrupt, “That would drastically limit my visibility.”

  Then I step onto the surface of the water.

  I haven’t tried running on water since an embarrassing incident a year or two ago, but between my sheer lack of fucks to give and the massive growth I’ve experienced over the past month, there’s little reason for me not to try again. So I do, and while I hardly have the mental space to be surprised, I certainly would’ve been normally just because of how easy I find it.

  Some back-of-the-napkin math suggests it’s really not all that hard to walk on water. Sure, you have to go faster than any normal human ever could, but it’s not that fast, in the grand scheme of things. I probably could’ve done it even as little as a year ago if I’d just had enough of a running start. Here and now, I don’t even need that.

  The poor officer is drenched in seawater as my first stride hits the waves faster than the eye can blink, throwing up a monumental splash. In six strides I begin to feel as if the air itself is moving slower than I am, and in ten, I no longer even have time to process the mental command to take the next step—it just happens.

  Thirty seconds later, the horizon disappears behind me. After two minutes, I spot a boat. Well before I hit three, I stop short on the very edge of the deck.

  And sitting there, looking very surprised, is a familiar, pink-haired, half-asian girl.

  “Rowan,” I say, “What’s going on?”

  “C-charlie?” she replies confused, “What…how…why are you here?”

  “I-” I frown, “Were you not trying to get my attention?”

  Rowan shakes her head.

  The realization kicks in and I flush, my face heating as I bury it in my hands. I completely overreacted. What got into me?

  “So you aren’t in danger?” I ask, “Or trying to contact me?”

  She shakes her head, “I would’ve called. I do have your number.”

  “Right,” I say, slumping down in defeat, “So I messed up.”

  Rowan doesn’t seem to know how to respond to that. The thought makes me bury my face even further into my hands. Finding my courage, I opt to look back up at her again after a few seconds, rather than just leave her sitting there.

  “If you don’t mind telling me,” I prompt, “Why did you steal a boat, if not for general villain stuff?”

  Rowan hesitates a moment, and for a second I worry I’ve overreached, but then she says, “I didn’t have one of my own, and I needed one.” She turns around to face the direction the boat is going, “To see…that. Again.”

  I look past her, and with a start realized that I’d been so focused on finding her I hadn’t even registered the presence of the very edge of the USC—the cloudwall.

  It seems to rise infinitely into the sky and stretch outward endlessly to the sea, parallel to the shore far behind us. It is truly a cloudwall, for no better word seems to describe it. It is a cloud in the sense that it is a billowing white surface, seemingly equally intangible and solid, and it is a wall, in that, even as the waves seem to pass effortlessly through it, some instinct tells me I could never make it through to the other side. Formless and intangible, yet rigid and impassible, the cloudwall is a monument to the true strength of superhumans. Even from this distance, a tingling feeling in the back of my mind informs me that the entire thing emanates sheer unmatchable power. It’s terrifying.

  “Fuck,” I whisper to myself in disbelief, “How did I miss that?”

  “Amazing, isn’t it?” Rowan agrees, seeing my expression, “My, uh, my…therapist told me I should try and go see it again, to remind myself that I’m safe here, being in the USC and all. I’ll be honest, it’s kinda working. Looking at it now, I have a hard time believing I made it through myself.” She chuckles, “Though I think she meant I should book a spot on a tour, not steal a boat.”

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  I look back at Rowan and the sadness in her eyes that contrasts her soft smile.

  I hesitate, “Yeah, uh, I…I guess this wasn’t the best way to handle things. On both ends.”

  Rowan gives me a raised eyebrow, “I wasn’t the one who broke the sound barrier running on water over one measly boat. I think you went a little over ‘not the best.’”

  I blush once more, “I-I didn’t even realize…was I really going that fast?”

  “Charlie,” Rowan smirks, “my ears are still ringing.”

  I don’t even think it’s possible for me to blush even more than I am now, “…Sorry.”

  Rowan’s smile softens again, “Don’t be. You may have overreacted, but you’re far from the only person in my life with the dangerous combination of superhuman powers and the tendency to use them when worried about me,” she looks down at the bottom of the boat, “I’m glad you care,” she says in a lower voice.

  I nod. I’d smile, but she wouldn’t see, and, despite what she just said being patently a good thing, I don't feel happy just yet. It feels wrong, somehow.

  “I guess the other one is this ‘Rhea?’” I ask.

  Rowan looks back up at me and nods, “Who else? Latasha’s been my personal champion ever since I met her, even if I have no idea why. I have to admit it makes me feel a bit too much like a damsel in distress sometimes, but I can hardly deny I needed her. Still do, probably.”

  “Well, I can just say I’m glad she’s on your side,” I shudder, “That woman is terrifying.”

  “Not so much as some of the company you keep, Ms. Hero,” Rowan shoots back, “But yeah, she’s definitely far better an ally than an enemy. Sometimes I don’t know what I did in a past life to deserve her help, but I sure am glad I did it.”

  “You’re a good person, Rowan,” I tell her, “You deserve good things. Own it.”

  At that, she seems to shrink in on herself. My heart drops into my stomach as suddenly I fear I’ve done something horribly, horribly wrong. What could I have said that would make her react like that? I thought I was helping?

  “Rowan?” I start, “Are you…okay?”

  She curls in on herself even more, “Charlie, can I ask you a question? Completely hypothetical?”

  “Anything,” I say without hesitation.

  “If-” Rowan sniffs, hesitating, “If someone with a lot of power over you—Jonathan, say—was to tell you to do something really bad. Not like reaper work, more like…burning down a village full of innocent people. Hypothetically. If he told you he would hurt you if you didn’t, that you owed it to him, that you’re weak and foolish for not wanting to. Would you do it? Would you…sacrifice them, to save yourself?”

  I blink.

  Not Jonathan. It can’t be. Rhea would’ve done something about it, and besides, that’s not his MO. If he wanted someone dead, he’d do it himself. No, it was somebody else. Somebody further back in Rowan’s past. Most likely…most likely the person she fled from.

  I clench my fists, and my toes. I have to bite my tongue to keep from asking who it was. I taste blood; it tastes like rage.

  But then I take a deep breath in. Then I let a deep breath out. Rowan won’t be helped by me just getting angry. I don’t know what’s happening here exactly, but I know that if I say the wrong thing…well, I just can’t do that. I won’t do that.

  I hesitate, “…yes.”

  Rowan’s whole body perks up. She stares at me in disbelief, eyes wide. I can tell she’s searching me for any hint of a lie, but she won’t find one.

  I told the truth.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” I elaborate, “I’d hate it. My first reaction would probably be one of disgust, anger, maybe fear, and afterward I don’t think I’d ever feel clean again.”

  Absentmindedly, I rub a finger over the spot on my clothes still drenched in Thunderfist’s blood.

  “But I still stand by one basic concept of morality: no one life is worth any more than another,” I continue, “In all honesty, doing what you suggested would be no different than what I am doing now, as a reaper.” I see Rowan flinch at that, “At least, it wouldn't be to me.”

  I catch myself touching the stain, then clench my fist, “So yes, I’d do it. More than once, if I had to. But I would not let that be the end. Even if it takes months, years, decades, one day I would find a way. I would surpass whoever is so callously cruel as to ask that of me, whether it be in strength or influence, and I would crush them. I would break them in every way but one, and ensure they rot in a jail cell as deep beneath the ground as I could put them for the rest of their days. And I would have to content myself with the knowledge that it would’ve been worse if not for me.”

  I look deep into her eyes and find only hope.

  “Because I refuse to ever be so helpless,” I say, “and I refuse to ever die in vain.”

  Rowan stares at me, unable to break my gaze. I see her shed a single tear.

  “Was that hel-”

  Then she tackles me in a hug.

  It takes me entirely by surprise, and for a moment, it’s just her squeezing me as tight as she can, leaving me completely frozen. Then, slowly, with an abundance of caution, I place my arms on her back. She just holds onto me tighter. She doesn’t sob, but I begin to feel hot tears on my shoulder as she cries. I hold her a little tighter.

  “Thank you,” she whispers in my ear, “T-thank you.”

  I don’t say a word.

  —

  We turn the boat back around fifteen minutes later. After Rowan calmed down and dried her eyes, we both agreed that I should turn her in so she can break loose again, like usual. If I don’t I’d have to explain how I failed to capture her. This just simplifies things.

  “Are you sure you’re fine?” I ask her, “We can just return separately. If I just run back, I can say I never found you in the first place.”

  “Yeah, but then I have to keep the boat,” Rowan fakes a shudder of disgust, “It would look horrible in my living room. Completely throw off the feng shui, too.”

  I chuckle, “Yeah…” I pause for a moment, still not in a humorous mood, “Do you mind if I ask…what you’re planning on doing next?”

  Rowan frowns, clearly hesitating, “I mean…if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to keep the nemesis thing on hold still. I have some thinking to do on that front.”

  I nod, “It was always more for your sake anyways. A break would be just fine.”

  “But,” Rowan continues, “I wouldn’t mind…spending a little more time together anyway, in more…peaceful circumstances. Just for the sake of it.”

  “Of course!” I reply, smiling, “I would love that. Maybe I can even introduce you to my friends—I love Allacia and Elias, but I could certainly use some backup to help keep from feeling so much like a third wheel around the two of them.”

  Rowan flushes, confusing me a little, “Oh, yeah, sure,” she clears her throat, “Um…I was also going to see if Latasha could help me get a little stronger. Seeing you catch up so fast has been a bit of a reminder of how much I’ve been slacking.”

  I nod, “Fair enough. Let me know if you could use a sparring buddy—I’ve been dying to see how we compare as of recently.”

  Rowan smiles, “Will do.”

  This time it’s my turn to flush and clear my throat, “We’re getting close to shore,” I say, “Might want to get ready now—before we get in range of sight.”

  “The mooring line’s in the cabin,” Rowan says, “You can use it to tie me up.”

  I blink at her in confusion.

  “The rope they tie the boat to the dock with,” she sighs, “Sometimes I forget how sheltered you are.”

  “Hey, boats here are rare, even by the ocean,” I protest, grabbing the rope off the floor of the cabin obediently, “This is actually my first time being on one—and that’s not even unusual for people my age.”

  “Still sheltered, princess,” Rowan remarks, holding out her wrists as I walk over with the rope. I carefully tie her up, making sure it’s believable but not painful. I do my best to ignore her hot breath washing over me or the occasional time my hand has to brush against her skin.

  Suddenly, I step back, feeling a little warm. I’m done anyway, with Rowan appearing tied up yet very much comfortable. She gives me a thumbs-up, and, with her directions, I slowly begin to pilot the boat back to shore.

  Landing begins a tiring yet familiar affair. The police only left one car at the docks, as we had taken longer than any of them had wanted to sit around. I have to stand and wait as backup arrives to haul Rowan off to jail. I see her flash me a comforting look as I watch them take her away, as if I’m the one who needs it. Maybe I am.

  I don’t stay for long after that, barely even bothering to answer the police’s questions. They’re used to aloof heroes though, and graciously let me leave quickly. After, though, I find myself wandering around the city, feeling as if I have nowhere to go. Home seems…wrong, right now. I don’t want to be near the Bowl.

  Eventually, I catch people staring at me as I pass, and realize that I’m still walking around in a blood-covered hero suit. The thought immediately disgusts me, and I slip into a clothing store to buy something more normal to wear—I settle on some jeans and a white blouse—and swap out of my super suit, leaving it in the complimentary store bag.

  Leaving the store, I get a sudden urge to toss the old suit. I’d probably have to get a new one soon anyways, but I have to remind myself that would be stupid. Dropping it in the trash would likely spawn a city-wide manhunt for a serial killer that doesn’t exist, while burning it is near impossible—I ordered this version back when I was still expecting a lot more fights with Rowan.

  So, I do the only logical thing, and huck it into the ocean.

  Yeah, I know that’s technically illegal dumping, but in my defense, environmental concerns have been a non-issue for my entire life. Nobody cares about trash in the ocean when half the world population died during the Upheaval and the oceans are inaccessible for most people anyways. Besides, I’m pretty sure it’s biodegradable. It’s not plastic, at least—synth materials are essential for any good costume.

  Afterwards, I feel a lot better. Lighter, in a way. It’s still been a rough day, but the sun is almost gone by now, and so I decide now is a pretty good time to get drunk. I swing by a local bar to get a pair of synth beers and take up a bench by a lake in central park—which is somehow one of the few intact portions of the city—to relax a little.

  Alone beneath the pitch-black sky, slowly, my eyes begin to close.

  —

  A second time? You are a rare one.

  What did I give you again? Ah, yes, that explains it.

  Do not worry young one, you will forget in time. This place truly does not like to take up space in one’s mind. Not when there are more interesting things, at least.

  I suppose I should give you a parting gift, though. To reward your efforts.

  Perhaps another? No, it is too soon.

  A nudge, then. A new path opened up. Yes, that shall be it.

  It would be an Epiphany all the same, regardless.

  There. It is done.

  Good luck, young one. Sleep soundly for now. Digest your gift.

  We shall meet again.

  For the Farseer said so, and it was not his way to be wrong.

  —

  I blink open my eyes beneath the stars. I don’t remember those being there before.

  I don’t remember falling asleep either, but I feel like I had a dream. It’s hazy, though, and already fading.

  And, for some reason, my hand is covered in glass. Like the bottle I was holding broke.

  As though, for whatever reason, I was angry.

  “Maybe…” I whisper to myself, “Maybe I should get back home now.”